Work Text:
“Would you look at that,” Mrs. Van Hopper pointed out two older men to Ileana. “Just when I began to despair of never finding any decent company, here comes Maxim de Winter and Frank Crawley. You’ve heard of them, haven’t you Ileana?”
Ileana had indeed heard of them. Mr. de Winter and Mr. Crawley were the proud owners of Manderley, one of the most renowned untitled estates in all of England.
“It was so sad what happened to their wife,” Mrs. Van Hopper continued. “Her name was Rebecca Hildreth. They say she drowned last year in a bay near Manderley.”
The last thing Maxim was in the mood for was to be ambushed by Mrs. Van Hopper of all people. He and Frank had fled Manderley in order to escape people like her.
By the look of it, the young woman trailing behind the American didn’t seem to be faring much better. She seemed embarrassed by her companion’s behavior. Frank had noticed this as well and gently nudged Maxim, prompting him to speak to her.
“What do you think of Monte Carlo?” he asked her.
“It’s sort of…artificial,” the young woman stammered.
Frank smiled. “Funny, Maxim said the same to me earlier.”
The girl had come down to breakfast alone, and Frank could tell Maxim was relieved that Mrs. Van Hopper was nowhere to be found.
“Let’s invite her to join us,” Frank suggested.
Maxim nodded his assent, and Frank called out to her.
“Are you sure?” the girl asked.
“Of course,” Frank replied with his usual kind smile.
The three chatted away. Frank did most of the talking, asking the young woman questions to get to know her. He was intrigued when she said she was an aspiring artist.
“Could you remind me of your name?” Maxim asked.
“Ileana Fernsby,” the girl answered.
“You have a lovely, unusual name.”
They had invited her on practically every one of their outings, and Ileana couldn’t hide the fact that she had grown very fond of them. No, she wasn’t just fond of them; she was in love.
Frank had this special gift of putting her at ease and drawing her out of her shell. Maxim was alluring and always left butterflies in her stomach. Every night she dreamt that they felt the same way about her.
Would they want to remarry after losing their wife so tragically? Marriages were incomplete without a third, but would they want her? She was far from a great lady and had nothing to her name but her art.
Still, she could dream.
“I’m asking you to marry us, you little fool,” Maxim stated matter of factly.
Ileana looked at them with wide eyes.
“Maxim, that's no way to propose,” Frank scolded him before turning back to Ileana. “What he’s trying to say is that we’d like you to become our wife, what do you think of it?”
Ileana just continued to stare at them. She wanted to say yes, but… “I don’t know, I-I don’t belong to your sort of world.”
Maxim looked at her with a hint of disappointment.
“Of course you do, we know you do,” Frank took her hands in his.
Ileana immediately perked up at his reassurance and nodded her head yes. “I love you,” she beamed. “I love you both most dreadfully!”